I didn’t know what to say. Freya seemed to understand, because she offered me a sympathetic smile. The smile dropped as her face went pale and she got to her feet, striding toward the bathroom. “You guys mind letting yourself out?”
Kyla winced. “Nope. Good luck.”
My eyes burned as I got into the car. Kyla offered me a tissue she pulled out of somewhere.
“God,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “It’s easier to think of them all hating me. It’s easier to remember hatingthemfor old wounds. We’ll never get to talk now.” I sighed and turned the key. “And it’s not about me.”
“You’re a witch. Someone who knew some of the dead. And even if you didn’t, it would be impossible not to be impacted by the murder of so many women. Hell, I didn’t know any of them and I’m ready to find whoever did this and rip them apart.”
“Yeah.” I finished wiping my face and took a deep breath. “Okay, time to go to the morgue.”
We hit a drive-thru on the way to the morgue, and Kyla ate seven burgers and two large fries. Werewolves.
My phone vibrated as I parked.
“Siobhan. Hi.”
“Hey. I heard about the fire at Gemma’s coven. I know you must be so busy juggling two cases, and I’m sorry to hound you, but I needed to check in. Do you know anything?”
“You’re not hounding me. We’re going through Riona’s schedule. Kyla, my… employee—” and didn’tthatfeel weird to say– “has been interviewing all her friends and neighbors. We’re looking for anyone who saw her the day she went missing.”
“Okay. Okay. I know you’re doing everything you can. I’ve been going over the last time I saw her, trying to remember if she said anything that I should’ve found concerning. But I was so focused on the engagement party and the wedding…” Guilt dripped from Siobhan’s voice.
“She seemed excited for the engagement party. And I bet she loved hearing about your wedding plans.”
“Yeah. Yeah she did.” Siobhan blew out a breath. “Thanks Danica.”
“Look after yourself.”
I hung up and finished the rest of my Pepsi.
“It’s gotta be hard,” Kyla said.
“Yeah. I don’t know what I’d do if it were Evie who’d gone missing. Do you have any siblings?”
Kyle was silent for a long moment. “I have a brother. I haven’t seen him since I was turned. He’d be so disappointed if he knew what happened to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “Yeah. Me too.”
The human morgue was a sprawling, concrete building located directly behind the Durham Police Department Headquarters on East Main Street.
The Decade of Despair had been good for the morgue. It now took up almost an entire block, with entrances on all of the surrounding streets. I parked in the lot on Elizabeth Street and dumped our trash in the garbage can as we crossed to the main entrance. The temperature plummeted as we walked through the sliding doors and into the small waiting area.
Several red plastic chairs and a water cooler occupied one corner of the room. Directly opposite the chairs, double swinging doors led further back into the morgue. To the left, a long marble counter stood between us and the lone guard, who was already giving us a hard stare.
“We have an appointment with Amy Wilson,” Kyla said.
“Identification.”
We handed over our licenses and the guard heaved himself to his feet, favoring his left leg as he shifted to the printer to make copies.
He held onto our licenses for a long moment once he was done, glancing between our IDs and our faces as if damn sure we were both suspicious characters.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll tell Wilson you’ve arrived.”
We sat in the cheap plastic chairs for barely two minutes before the tap of heels on linoleum sounded. The wide doors swung open, and a curvy blonde appeared, her blue eyes examining us in a way that made me feel very much like one of her dead bodies.
